


where home is

by salts



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7122292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salts/pseuds/salts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once it starts taking two hands to count how many of her locks he's broken, she finally hands over her spare key.</p>
<p>(Feat. Hibari, Chrome, and Chrome's apartment.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She doesn't remember the first time he had stumbled into her apartment, clothes torn and bloodied, the smell of iron and sweat clinging to his skin — but she does remember how he looked at her then, with eyes that threatened worse than death should she say anything. (So she doesn't, of course, and in the morning he's gone along with the roll of bandages she had left on the kitchen counter.)

A week later, he's back — and after a month or two, it becomes almost routine. Now, she buys medical supplies every time she runs to the market, stocking up for any possible injury (because the one and only time she had suggested for him to visit the doctor, the conversation had ended with the press of metal against her windpipe). She buys clothes, too; the tattered, cotton remains occasionally left on the floor are enough to give her a rough estimate of size, and she figures it must be inconvenient to not have fresh clothes to change into.

(He had attacked her when he found out about that, too. _I don't need your help, herbivore._ )

Still, she leaves the garments on the countertop, neatly folded beside the bandages, and after a while she assumes he's finally given up resisting — the first morning she wakes up to see the clothing gone, she smiles at her small victory. Hibari Kyoya may be as stubborn as they come, but at least he's no idiot.

It's not like the clothes fit _her_ , anyway.

After the fifth time he's broken her door trying to get past the lock in the middle of the night — regardless of the fact that he always takes responsibility and fixes it, because having it broken in the first place is more than a _little_ bit frustrating — she finally gathers enough nerve to give him the spare key she made for him months ago. Chrome doesn't look at him when she puts it next to the sink, and when she shuffles out of the kitchen she hears him stand from the sofa. (The key, along with everything else, is nowhere to be seen in the morning.)

Her neighbors never ask about the dark-haired man that comes and goes at the unholy hours of the night, for which she is thankful — Chrome isn't entirely sure how to explain it to herself, let alone to others, and she's thinking about it the first time she comes home to see him asleep on her couch.

Chrome's first thought is to go straight to the first-aid kit (even though she's stopped leaving things out for him for a while now; he knows her apartment as well as she does, at this point) before she notices he's ... fine. She stands there in confusion, unsure — this is new, and she's never really associated _new_ with _Hibari_ ; the man is about as consistent as it gets, once you figure him out.

He stirs, sitting up. Then he looks at her, raising an eyebrow as if daring her to comment, and Chrome hastily glances away before hurrying to the restroom. When she comes out, he's gone again.

She doesn't expect it to happen more than once, but it does; a few days later, she finds him napping again, and eventually she figures out this is another habit he's picked up. (Which means she immediately goes to buy more pillows and blankets for the sofa, of course. Surprisingly enough, she doesn't get a tonfa to the face when she sees him next.)

Weeks pass, and he's become a constant presence in her apartment — slipping in and out as he pleases, and with significantly less blood than his initial visits. The thought occurs to her then, but she doesn't give it a voice until a lazy Saturday afternoon. He's sleeping again, as per usual, and she stares at his strangely relaxed face for a while before murmuring, "... You're like a cat."

A single grey eye opens to stare at her. Chrome pales. (She didn't know he was awake.) He holds her gaze for a short while before saying, "I thought you liked cats."

She flushes a bright red and quickly excuses herself from the apartment; and, like always, he's not there when she comes back.

(The next week, right before she leaves to do grocery shopping, she stops in the doorway and turns to look at him, expression inscrutable. "I love cats." Then she hurries away.)


	2. Chapter 2

Some nights, they'll look at the sky together. There are few stars, of course — it's the city, and the beautiful ornaments in the night sky end up washed out by the light — but she drags up pillows and thick blankets for them anyway. At first, she had been afraid he wouldn't appreciate her intrusion (because she's never really been _wanted_ anywhere, simply tolerated at best) — but after he finally glares at her and tells her to do what she wants because only herbivores wait for orders, Chrome takes it as his way of letting her stay.

They don't always stargaze; most days he's off doing who-knows-what, and occasionally he'll arrive in her apartment only to crash on her couch (and she thinks back to when he would only _ever_ crash on her couch, his skin torn almost as badly as his clothing), but there's the few days out of the month neither of those apply and he makes his way onto the roof of the apartment complex. She follows him up an hour or so afterward, sometimes with a warm drink in her hands, and she joins him without a word.

Chrome looks at the street below every now and then, her eye focused on the yellow streetlamps and occasional car; or perhaps she'll stare out into the distance at nothing in particular, pulling the blanket tighter around her to ward off the cold. Hibari simply stares at the sky. Neither of them speak until she excuses herself with a whispered _good night_ a few hours later.

The first time she falls asleep on the roof, she wakes up to find herself in her own bed; the second time, it goes pretty much the same way. After that, she finds herself wondering what he does after she falls asleep — she's never had any reason to wonder before, but now ...

... now, she resolves to stay awake until she finds out.

It takes a while for her to succeed. Despite her most valiant efforts, she just can't remain conscious enough to beat him; and it's not until weeks after the question has lodged itself in her mind that the answer presents itself to her.

That night, she's finally given up and is about to give her customary good night when she realizes he's asleep. It never fails to surprise her — she's seen him like this before, of course, napping on her couch, but in sleep he's ... different than how he is while awake. Gentler, somehow, which is as strange a concept as it is foreign, especially in regards to him.

(After all, this is _Hibari Kyoya_ — and since when has he ever been _gentle_?)

Her own fatigue is forgotten in favor of simply watching him rest. His chest rises and falls with each breath, and it's so soothing — along with the cool night air touching her skin and the glow of streetlights down below — that she doesn't notice her eye is drifting closed until something breaks the silence. Her mind is shot back into alertness.

Chrome's heart is pounding in her chest as she waits for the thing, whatever it is, to show itself. Then the man by her side twitches slightly, and — _oh._ She watches him again, eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and concern, and a few minutes later there's a low grunt and his body jerks. _Oh._ She doesn't know what to do, other than waking him up (but she doesn't really want to get attacked, so that idea is ruled out quickly) or carrying him inside (which she can't do anyway), so she does the next-best thing.

The girl slowly, quietly stands and goes back into her apartment, grabbing all the spare blankets she can carry before returning to the roof. Chrome surrounds them both with the blankets, creating a lumpy, human-sized nest, and gently pulls one of the comforters over him.

She settles into her own half of the makeshift nest, resting her head on her pillow and murmuring, "Good night."


	3. Chapter 3

The day the skies decide to open the floodgates and release a deluge of rain on the city, Chrome finds an extraordinarily disgrunted Hibari standing in a huge puddle in the center of her kitchen. His expression as he gazes out the window is _murderous_ , like he's contemplating biting the stormclouds to death — which, knowing him, isn't unlikely.

(Chrome is struck by a sudden image of the Cloud Guardian angrily trying to bat at the gloomy sky with his tonfa, and it takes most of her own expertise in deception to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching upward. She's not _that_ masochistic.)

It's only been a few days since his last visit, however, and he normally doesn't stop by too many times in a row — something about crowding, she assumes — so Chrome wonders if he's only here because of the unexpected inclement weather. Not that she minds. Hibari isn't bad company, even if he _is_ pricklier than a cactus.

That said, he doesn't seem to have any intention of moving. Or of doing anything other than furiously fuming in silence, which inspires mild concern. It looks as if he's carrying around his own personal lake in his clothing, which _cannot_ be good for his health. Say what one wants about idiots and colds, Chrome fears for the safety of every ne'er-do-well within fifteen miles should Hibari Kyoya become sick.

The inevitable carnage would be simultaneously terrifying and awe-inspiring.

So once she's certain he's simply going to sulk in her apartment until he stubbornly freezes to death, Chrome steels her spine (and hopes it won't be broken in the coming moments) and points at her bathroom. "Go shower." Her tone makes it clear that this is a command, not a request — not that it would _actually_ stop him from doing whatever the hell he wants — and she fixes a pointed glare at the mini-lake at his feet. "I need to clean that up as soon as possible."

Hibari stares blankly at her. Chrome figures she's stunned him into silence. And, because she knows how to choose her battles (well, most of them), she rapidly retreats to the closet where she keeps her cleaning supplies. With any luck, he won't decide that attacking her for daring to give him an order would be better than looking — and feeling — like a drowned animal.

Also, she wants to mop up the water before it leaves a stain on her floor.

She waits for a few moments, mop in hand and prepared for a tonfa to fly at her at any moment, before she hears the sound of water rattling through her pipes. Chrome releases a small breath. She's safe, for now. Drying everything takes longer than she expected, if only because she underestimated the amount of water he'd dripped all over the place from the doorway to her kitchen (and from her kitchen to the bathroom). It's a mild annoyance, of course, but Chrome doesn't particularly mind.

For reasons she still can't quite fathom, Hibari Kyoya has determined that her apartment is some sort of sanctuary. She doesn't take his implicit trust for granted. They're not ... _close_ , per se, but she'd like to think they're at least friends. (And it's not like she hands out her key to just _anyone_.)

By the time she's done mopping essentially her entire apartment, Hibari is stepping out of her bathroom with fresh clothing and rumpled hair. He shoots her a nasty glare as she passes, which Chrome decidedly ignores. Everything _has_ to be a battle with him, doesn't it?

But she's not going to go down without a fight.

"I'll put your clothes in the dryer downstairs," she says resolutely. Chrome glances out the window, where it's pouring even harder than it was before. "My umbrella is by the door, if you'd like to leave."

She goes to grab his drenched clothing from the bathroom. When she passes by him on her way out, laundry basket in hand, she quietly adds, "But you can stay, if you want." Then she closes the door behind her.

(When Chrome comes back up to her apartment, she tells herself she's not disappointed that he's gone.)


End file.
